


Birding

by Lady_Caryatid



Series: But the Greatest of These is Love [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, One-Sided PruAme, Prussia is oblivious, Unrequited Crush, Valley Forge, technically takes place in the 'But the Greatest of These is Love' story, vague descriptions of birdwatching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 06:08:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11845545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Caryatid/pseuds/Lady_Caryatid
Summary: Prussia goes birdwatching one calm Sunday morning, and America follows him.(Takes place before "But the Greatest of These is Love," didn't really have a place to put this scene so it's here as a separate fic!)





	Birding

**Author's Note:**

> for the fic that i never get around to finishing... this was a bit of a "deleted scene" but I liked it a lot so I've tweaked it so technically this takes place before the events of But the Greatest of These is Love and I thought it made a nice fic on its own, so here it is!

 

“You know, you can come on over instead of just standing over there,” said Prussia, still focusing intently on whatever he was writing in his notebook. America swallowed and took a few more tentative steps forward.

 

“Come on now, I won’t _bite_.” Prussia gestured to the side of the log. “Have a seat. But be quiet, okay?" 

America nodded, gingerly stepping over the various dry twigs before reaching the log. 

“So, uh, what are you writing?” he whispered. 

“Give me a moment now,” said Prussia, continuing to scribble in his notebook while taking pauses to glance up. “And I’m not writing, I’m drawing. And it’s hard to draw when the thing keeps hopping everywhere."

“The _what_?” America must have turned too abruptly or spoken a bit too loud, for he looked up just in time to see a quick shadow of a bird flutter up from the ground and into the branches of the tree above.

Prussia muttered a short curse that America supposed was German and steeled himself for another one of his lectures, but to his surprise Prussia simply laughed and shook his head. “Those damn birds, can’t stay still for one second, can they.” He got up and peered into the branches, walking leisurely around the tree and whistling a bit before returning back to his seat. 

“This is the best I could get,” he shoved his sketchbook into America’s hands, a bit too enthusiastically, America couldn’t help noticing. "Thought maybe you could help me identify them or something.” 

“ _Me?_ "

“Who else? It’s your land after all, you should know it better than anyone. Now are you gonna look at the drawings or not? I’ve been busy since I came here but there should be a few from the past few weeks with native species."

America obediently studied the quick sketches. Prussia’s sketchbook was made of a very good quality paper, weighty and smooth, but with just enough grain to let the strokes leave their marks. As he turned the pages he was surprised at the detailed quality of the drawings, the plumage, with even a feather sample glued to one of the pages. He looked back up at Prussia, who had been watching him peruse the drawings with an odd, almost expectant expression on his face. 

“Well,” America ventured, trying to decide what to say. “I think you have a lot of Dark-eyed juncos. I think at least. The brown ones, pink bills. It’s kind of hard to tell from these, but otherwise…yeah, they’re really good."

Prussia shrugged. “Guess my draftsmanship skills aren’t quite up to Michelangelo’s. Oh well. It is what it is."

“They are really nice though,” America said, and then wished he could have come up with something that sounded less generic, less like some sort of half-hearted appeasement. It wasn’t like he knew a whole lot about art anyway, aside from a few notable portraitists. He closed the sketchbook and handed it back to Prussia. “I mean…thanks for showing me. I didn’t know you liked birds."

“Oh they’re great, those little bastards, the prime of all of God's creation. Come in all shapes and colors, either huge or tiny and fast as hell.” He stuck his notebook into his coat pocket and got up, stretching his arms and legs. “And what about you? Out to enjoy the avian wildlife this fine morning?"

“Um, well, not exactly.” America shifted nervously. He hadn’t quite figured out a real reason why he should be wandering at the outskirts of the encampment, a reason that would actually be logical and practical beyond admitting the ridiculously basic motivation. _I just really wanted to see you, to be with you._

“Ah, whatever. It’s nice that you could come.” Prussia took a brief moment to wander around the tree again, running his fingers over the bark, and America watched him, slightly unnerved by how at _ease_ Prussia could be outside a military context.

“Hey,” Prussia’s voice immediately cut through his thoughts. “We’re not in training, you _can_ loosen up around me you know. It's Sunday. The day the Good Lord ceased his labors, and our time for contemplation and rejuvenation, all that junk.” He smiled, but it only tensed up America even more, with the addition of an uncomfortable churning in his stomach.

“S-sorry,” he mumbled under his breath.

"No need for apologies, Jones. Although I must say for a day of rest you don't look especially _rested_." He tilted his head–looking very much like a bird himself, America noted–and frowned. "Something troubling you, soldier?"

_You. You trouble me._ _Troubling my thoughts, my sleep, and I don't know what to say or do about it._ "Nothing in particular," America muttered as casually as he could, keeping his gaze fixed on the mulchy ground.

Prussia abruptly took a wide step closer and America instinctively flinched upwards in alarm. "You sure about that?  You know, you can't perform well in war if you enter with all sorts of qualms beforehand." He waved his hand past his head. "They distract from the actual information you could be focusing on. It's better if–and I'm not saying it needs to be _me,_ but it's better if you can articulate those thoughts to someone else, since soldiers never operate alone."

America backed away, breathing slowly and regularly and trying not to give away the pounding in his chest and ears. "I'm fine." He said, a little too aggressively. "I'm not _scared_ , if that's what you're implying. I'd take England on right now, if i could only get close enough to him."

Prussia raised an eyebrow, forming an expression somewhere between amused and impressed–America couldn't tell which it was closer to, and it made him even more uneasy. 

“Can’t deny you've got the spirit," he said. “That’s always good. But being a good warrior doesn’t mean denying fear. Sometimes you have to admit you’re scared shitless before you become more efficient. God knows how many times I’ve been there.” Prussia laughed nervously to himself and gave an awkward smile. “There, I’ve admitted that to you. Don’t go around blasting that info to everyone you know, now. I’ve got an image to maintain."

“Y-yes sir,” America responded automatically

“It’s Sunday. Call me Gilbert.” Prussia– _Gilbert_ , rather, smiled again, just as another junco fluttered across the branches and America’s soul temporarily ascended out of his body. 

-

America didn’t remember exactly how he left the forest and got back to camp, but he somehow managed to stumble his way into his cabin, flop unceremoniously back onto his cot, and remain there for an entire half an hour without moving. One of his cabinmates came in later and was surprised to see him. 

“What’s going on Alfred? Don’t tell me you’re getting sick or something, I thought we were all _over_ that.” The soldier wrinkled his nose, hesitant to consume any potential harmful fumes emanating from 

_Something like that_ , America thought to himself. _Definitely something like that_.

 


End file.
